


Light

by EvilRociel



Series: Light and Shadows [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilRociel/pseuds/EvilRociel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Light of Asgard is troubled by shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light

They say the Son of Odin has fallen to madness. A curse, they say. From the Dark One.

Son of Odin, now King of Asgard. Gone are the ways of youth, the arrogance, the impulsiveness. He has learnt much through the years. That they are Gods but not immortal. He listens to his people. He is always listening. At times, he closes his eyes and ponders their words, contemplates their meaning, considers the consequences, cause and effect, before he comes to a decision. He rules with much wisdom and patience. The nine realms have never before seen such peace and prosperity.

Yet the people fear. They fear for their young King, for they can see the sickness creeping into his mind. They hear of stories from the servants and the guards. Of how he wanders the halls after the day's duties are done, when the pathways are lit by the dying embers of the setting sun, casting a copper red glow over the lands, like so much spilled blood. At times, he turns to speak to the one who would always stand by his side, frowning when he realises the space between them. He falls silent. And his heart grows cold for he has lost too much.

Burdened by glorious purpose. Bound by duty. He knows the other lingers. Hidden in the shadows. Glimpses round the corner. He fancies he sees him sometimes. Oblivious to the world around him. Ignored. Forgotten. Lost. Curled up in his favourite chair in the library, nose stuck in a book. Or sitting by the window, watching over their land, their home, with a pensive look. Mind a million miles away. He tried reaching out once. Only to have him dissipate in a wisp of green smoke. He does not try anymore. Better to see and hear than not at all. 

Other times, he wanders the halls, he would pause ever so often, searching, seeking. It was an old game they used to play. He hears soft footsteps playfully leading him on, spies the tell-tale green and gold flickers. A wistful smile touches his countenance. It was game he always used to win. But victory eludes him these days. The other has gotten so much better at it and cannot be found, if he does not wish to be. He knows how to bring him back though. _Come home._ He pleas, and before long he finds himself embraced by a comforting chill. The scent of leather and old books gives the other away. A precious memory.

An eddy of leaves swirl as he passes the gardens, the shade dutifully following the Golden One. A ghost-like caress on his arm. He imagines he hears the carefree laughter, sees the mischievous twinkle in the bright green eyes.

_Will you not see me, brother? Will you not hear me?_


End file.
